


panorama

by xioying



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28502874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xioying/pseuds/xioying
Summary: From taking him in to bringing him up, Techno owed Philza more than just his life. That’s why, even though he didn’t need to, he always protected Phil from those baby zombies.To the end, and even beyond that.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 85





	panorama

Techno had always been an odd child.

For starters, while he already manifested several physical traits more akin to piglins, the way he behaved was barely human. Larger, pointed ears, growing ebony tusks and fluffy pink hair had always attracted attention— _unwanted_ attention, in Techno’s eyes, because he always hissed and scrabbled at them until they went away. He got along decently with his foster brothers, but any strangers usually got a faceful of claws or teeth. It didn’t matter how much Phil told him off; he never listened.

To begin with, the circumstances he found the child under were odd. It’d happened just as Phil was doing his job. Trips by travellers to the Nether were scarce, given how dangerous it was, and Phil was one of the workers who hollowed out the netherrack and built structures out of blast-proof material to make them somewhat easier to traverse in. After all, space in the Nether was warped; it was obvious anyone would want to exploit it to reduce travelling times.

When he’d just finished off a nest of piglins, he’d heard the warbling cries of a human child.

Sneaking Techno out of there had proven to be a challenge. The strange piglin child bit his hand once while under Phil’s coat.

At the very least, after one or two years, he didn’t gnaw at people anymore. Instead, he’d picked up swordsmanship and was unnaturally skilled at it, and then he lorded over the other kids with aptly-shaped tree branches.

“He’s not biting your child anymore,” Phil pointed out to one of the parents, holding Techno back by the shoulders.

“Now he’s _stabbing_ my son!” the mother rebutted, aghast.

Come to think of it, maybe that was when _stabbing_ became Techno’s favourite word.

Or maybe it was from one of the books Techno liked picking up. Phil had a dusty library at the back of the house, and some days Techno spent hours in it, like a piglin in a vault of gold. He didn’t speak very much, not that much around Phil and even less when strangers were present, so the jury was out on how big his vocabulary cloud was.

For a child, he only had two hobbies: reading, which was particularly normal, and swordfighting, which was particularly abnormal.

Then again, Phil mused as he watched Techno in the garden, slashing at a straw dummy, there was no way Techno was completely human, so maybe it wasn’t reasonable to expect human-like behaviour out of him.

“Phil!”

Techno had lowered his sword, dummy having been skinned of its straws, and was pointing and waving his arm at the other sword resting against a tree stump. He didn’t vocalise his demand, but he’d done this many times before.

Phil sighed, and with his hands pressed on top of his thighs, stood up. And it was getting late already, too. “If I win, we go back inside. Okay?”

Techno lifted his head and snorted.

Picking the wooden practice sword, Phil flicked his wrist, testing its weight. The usual iron and stone swords he was used to were much heavier.

No matter how good Techno was with the sword for how young he supposedly was, Phil still had decades of experience on him. The piglin child’s strikes were clumsy, his moves painfully patterned, swings lacking a soldier’s conviction. Phil let their blades parry a few times, just to be a sport, then swiped the flat end of his sword against the side of Techno’s knee. Balance thrown off, Techno stumbled backwards to the ground. He lurched forward in a counterattack, but jerked to a stop with the sharp tip of Phil’s blade before his neck.

Phil smiled. “Back inside, now.”

Obediently, Techno stood up, dusting the back of his pants while Phil returned the wooden sword to its position against the tree stump. Techno had been at the straw dummy since early afternoon, and the moon was already out now. Again, the dummy had been torn to shreds. Phil breathed in the cold night air. Straw dummies weren’t going to work for long more; maybe he should send him in for lessons at those classes? Techno hated being around that many other people, though. Phil glanced over at him, who was still examining the edge of the wooden sword curiously. Maybe a private instructor, then.

Suddenly he felt a pressure on his right leg through the cloth of his pants. Blinking, he looked down. A zombie child, barely standing, feebly clawed and mouthed at Phil, although half its black rotting teeth were already missing.

“Oh.” Then, he thoughtfully added, “Ouch.”

Techno looked up.

Phil barely even registered Techno lunging forward and crashing the blade against the zombie child’s torso, blowing the monster away from Phil. The zombie, nearly split into two and two halves now dangling at the connection at its hip, was practically taken care off. In a relentless flurry, Techno dashed forward and swung and swung again down at it, and all Phil saw was green flesh bits fly and black ooze spurting over the grass of the training grounds.

Eyes cast around in caution of any other undead wandering around, Phil patted Techno’s shoulder. “That’s enough. I’m pretty sure it’s dead.”

Techno heaved backwards, using the back of his hand to smear away the black viscous liquid off his chin. “It _hurt_ you,” he hissed, words heavy with contempt.

“No, it didn’t.” Techno’s look of distrust prompted Phil to raise his leg in front of him, completely unharmed. “I’m fine. See? It was nothing.”

Techno hummed. Phil got the feeling Techno didn’t quite believe it.

The torso of the zombie was mostly intact, surprisingly, save a few stab wounds, so Techno must’ve mostly been hacking away at its head and limbs. Phil crouched next to it.

That was very much the display of a vicious warrior.

Phil wordlessly stared at the green remains.

Then his gaze passed over the tattered clothes of the zombie, and his mouth parted slightly in realisation. “Oh, this is the uniform of the orphanage nearby.”

“So it was an orphan?” Techno asked spitefully.

“Right…” Had something happened there? Phil had half a mind to pay them a visit, but then decided against it. It wasn’t in his job scope, and it’d probably be dealt with by those who lived much closer, if they hadn’t already. What troubled him more was how he was going to deal with the zombie bits strewn over the training grounds. He’d have to wait for the sun to rise and dry its flesh out of the way, then he’d have to toss the torn uniform in the trash.

Techno was still circling Phil, as alert as a guard dog, until Phil finally convinced him to put the sword down and head back inside.

“Orphans are evil,” was the only thing Techno had to offer when they stepped foot inside the safety of their home.

* * *

In Phil’s line of work, he’d learned of an ancient weapon that was thought to be lost to its own power.

A few years ago, another team working in the Nether had unearthed unknown shards from within the netherrack, near the remnants of a bastion. At first, it’d just been bits of what was quite obviously rusted metal of some sort, only for them to analyse it and find that it wasn’t iron or any ore they could think of. Phil didn’t know the details, but research had led them to believe the shards belonged to a blade that was specifically forged to slay the creatures of the Nether, and that it’d been a powerful tool, blowing even the landscape of the Nether into bits and craters. With such a monstrous device, it was lost on them how it had broken. Some said it was simply through overuse, others said it couldn’t withstand its own sheer power and cracked under it.

Regardless, the truth behind that weapon’s fate was unknown. It was virtually impossible to recover every single bit of it that had fallen in the Nether; even if they managed to, Phil was sure he’d be dead by then.

Several months following its first discovery, a hilt belonging to that same weapon had been excavated. Engraved on it were words in an ancient language that had still yet to be fully deciphered, but roughly translated to _Technoblade._

It could’ve been the species name of that type of weapon, or it could’ve been the specific name of that weapon. No such discoveries that hinted a similar weapon existed, so most assumed the Technoblade was the only of its kind.

“So _that’s_ how Phil named you? Because he found _you_ in the Nether?” Wilbur peered up at Techno, walking alongside him towards the fields. “Laaaame.”

Of _course_ an eleven-year-old would react like that. Insufferably. Techno sniffed and flicked Wilbur on the forehead.

After that day Phil had been very violently assaulted by that zombie orphan, Phil, after mulling over it for a bit, decided to head down to the orphanage after all. Techno went with him, of course, in case any other foul demon orphans lurked there. The residents of the nearby village hadn’t caught wind of it, apparently, since while most of the zombies had burnt up under the daylight, Phil still had to slash through some other zombies that took shelter within the building. With Techno in tow, looking out for the foul orphans, of course. Phil was too big and couldn’t see them at his knee, obviously.

All of the people in the orphanage, caretakers and children alike, had been zombified or killed during a zombie attack, was what Phil concluded and told Techno. All except two children stuffed away in a cupboard.

After Phil convinced Techno that the two orphans weren’t necessarily evil, and them having nowhere to go, Phil took them in, too.

“Who named _you_ then, Wilbur?” 

Wilbur shrugged. “One of the big brothers at the orphanage.”

Techno did not pry any further.

“What’s Phil doing?” Wilbur asked, looking up at Techno again.

“Getting wheat,” Techno answered. His ears flicked, on the keen lookout for any undead at this hour, and pulled Wilbur closer around the shoulder.

“Now? It’s past dinner time.”

“The cows starve, Wilbur.” Wilbur’s face looked wholly unsympathetic, and to some extent, Techno agreed with it. “Friend will starve.”

Wilbur’s eyes widened. “But I don’t want Friend to starve!”

“That’s why Phil’s getting the wheat,” Techno pointed out. “So your sheep friend doesn’t die.”

Wilbur puffed out his chest. “ _I’ll_ get the wheat next time. For Friend.”

“You do that.” Techno waved to Phil, who must’ve been in earshot now. “Phil!”

Looking up, Phil stuffed the last bundle of wheat into the wicker basket, flicking his wrists to remove some of the dirt. “Techno… Wil? What’re you doing out here too?”

Techno stopped by the gate; it was dark and he didn’t want to risk trampling on any of the crops. That’d be a waste of food and Phil’s efforts. “I was coming back from the village and saw him gallivanting around with his blue sheep buddy.”

Lifting the wicker basket into his arms, Phil blinked at Techno, then down at Wilbur. “Until—at _this_ time?” Wilbur puffed his cheeks and looked away. Techno nodded. “Wil, I’ve said it before lots of times, haven’t I? You can’t play around this late at night. It’s still too dangerous for you.”

Wilbur’s shoulders sagged, then he ducked under Techno’s cloak and wrapped his small arms around his brother’s waist.

The fact that they weren’t blood-related shone through quite brightly, if the piglin traits Techno possessed wasn’t enough. Techno was practically a mercenary already, but Wilbur still showed no interest in swords, even though he _had_ been enraptured by the explosions of TNT that Phil showed from a film recording of their mining process in the Nether once. Phil had thought it was troubling. Techno thought it was amusing. Still, interest in explosives wasn’t a measure of self-defence, so Wilbur wasn’t allowed out at night without someone else around.

And Tommy? Tommy was just insufferable. Good thing they weren’t actually related; that would’ve called for an existential crisis. Techno snorted aloud.

As they turned back around to the house, with Phil still chiding away at Wilbur, Techno saw a blur of green behind them.

He swung around.

“Phil, look out!”

In one motion, he pushed Wilbur over towards Phil and drew his sword, and in two steps and two slashes, he decapitated the baby zombie and chopped off its legs. Its carcass fell into three pieces across the field.

Techno puffed air out of his cheeks, flicking the blood off his sword and sheathing it.

When he turned back around, Wilbur was clutching at Phil, and Phil was giving Techno an amused look. “I’d be fine, you know.”

“No, no, no… Phil, you’d be in _danger_ ,” Techno refuted, and caught up to their pace. Oops, he trampled some carrots underfoot. “It’s alright. You’re safe now.”

Phil rolled his eyes. He laughed anyway.

* * *

“Hey, Techno?”

It was minutes past midnight. Or maybe hours. Techno couldn’t be sure. He looked up from where he was slumped against one of the corners in the small library, book open on his lap. It wasn’t usual for Phil to come to this room of the house.

Phil stood at the door, jerking a thumb down in the direction of the hallway. “Tommy was complaining about you not reading him a book.”

“He can read his own books,” Techno scoffed. “He is a _diligent_ and _intelligent_ child.” Maybe not really.

“I’m just saying. He looks up to you a lot, you know.”

Techno hummed and glanced out of the window, into the dark outside.

“Also.” Phil leaned against the open wooden door, crossing his arms, then paused as if contemplating to continue. He did. “I heard you’ve been making quite a name for yourself in the village.”

“Well, _Technoblade_ is a weird name…”

“You know what I mean.” Phil chuckled, then sighed into a smile. “I’m proud of you.”

Techno blinked at him sideways.

Then his gaze shot back up to the window and he scrabbled to grab the ledge, chin resting on the window sill, on the high alert. Phil frowned, arms dropping to his sides and straightening. After a few moments, Techno turned his head back and pointed into the darkness. Phil inched closer.

“A zombie orphan. Thank goodness it’s outside. You’d be _done_ for.”

Phil snorted, then burst out laughing. He ruffled Techno’s hair, the latter also unable to hold back a tiny, humorous smile.

“I’m not going down _that_ easily.”

* * *

_Liar._

It was raining.

Techno pushed back long pink locks soaked from the rain. It wasn’t a light drizzle or the gentle drips in the aftermath of a storm—rather, it was in the middle of the torrential blast. Thunder roared all around; lightning forked across the sky. The grass around him was a giant wet sponge, and the rain was so thick he could barely make out the silhouette of his house just nearby.

He didn’t move. Cross-legged, with his sword across his lap, he bowed his head and shut his eyes.

How long had it been? Wilbur was working in the town council; had been for a few years. Tommy was still a student, but he’d finally be out of there in less than a year. They’d come a long way.

Himself? He’d been the same old. Everywhere was plagued with monsters at night, and the villagers always rewarded those who could lend a helping hand. From back then and even until now, nothing much had changed.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the stone in front of him, sighing. “Somehow,” he muttered.

Without lifting his head, he grabbed the hilt of the sword and speared its blade through the zombie approaching him from the side. It collapsed to the ground in a small heap. As he pulled his sword back out, the rain washed away any traces of black slime.

Even when he was gone, the baby zombies still couldn’t stop bothering him, could they?

“Hey, dickhead!”

Techno sighed, this time deliberately loudly.

The droplets stopped pattering at his skin, and he finally looked up. Tommy was grimacing down at him.

“Hello,” Techno greeted flatly.

“You are stupid, you know. This is how stupid people catch colds.” Tommy looked past Techno. “Phil, you have raised a stupid son.”

The umbrella was doing little to shield Tommy from the rain, too, in a thunderstorm like this. Still, Techno noticed how the umbrella was tipped in his direction, so he kept his sword and stood.

“Your butt’s all muddy now,” Tommy pointed out.

“I noticed,” Techno said dryly.

“You could’ve done this any other day.”

“No, I couldn’t. You’re not supposed to miss anniversaries like this, or something.”

Tommy scratched the front of his head. “No… you’re right. You’re right.” He turned back to the direction of the house, then paused. “Are you done yet?”

Techno took a step forward, then he stopped. He looked back at the gravestone.

“Thank you.”

The rain continued pouring.

Tommy rubbed the water off his cheek pointlessly. “You are so cringey, Technoblade.”

Techno glared at him, then began walking towards the house. “You’re really ruining the moment right now.”

“Ooh, _you’re really ruining_ —I brought this umbrella out here for you and you’re just walking ahead!”

“I’m already _this_ drenched.”

It never rained in the Nether. At a point in time, all he’d known was the Nether. That was before a kindly old miner had found him; he who’d been rejected by what was supposed to be his own kind and buried alive by them. The rain had been new to him. Maybe, in the same way, it’d be time for him to move onto a new chapter in his life.

He reached his arm out and caught raindrops at his fingertips. They dribbled down and continued falling. Maybe it would be time, maybe soon, just…

Just… not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not intend to write this much backstory. help


End file.
